


Plight of the Inquisitor

by BattyFics



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreplay, How Do I Tag, Inquisitor just wants to be loved, Kissing, M/M, Moving On, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BattyFics/pseuds/BattyFics
Summary: Inquisitor Trevelyan finds his thoughts wandering back to one elf mage who will never look his way, Dorian Pavus saunters into his life and makes him forget all his woes...(This contains *SPOILERS for Dragon Age: Inquisition, beware!)
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

# Of Butterflies

_Herald of Andraste_ , what a joke. Trevelyan paced around his room, sitting idle with his thoughts never ended well. Missing memories just adding more to the long list of concerns that seem to grow every minute.

 _I thought I’d left Chantry preachings back home._ He took a breath, easing the coiled tension starting from his neck, to his shoulders down to his legs. This won’t do, he needed some air. 

Wandering around Haven was pleasant enough, Cullen’s soldiers’ impassioned sparring making for soothing white noise. People’s eyes seemed to follow his every step, if Trevelyan walked a mite faster, no one was the wiser. He rounded the corner of the bar and stopped, eyes falling on one of his fellow party members. 

Solas. Now that was a strange one. A bit of prude really, he’s got his head so far stuck up in the clouds about elves and the fade it was surprising to see him not turning up his nose at the mere thought of a human Herald. Plus he‘s bald, the kind of bald where he could blind enemies if he merely tilted his head a smidgen to the right, not to mention those rags he wore. 

_Yet…._

Solas seemed to notice who the pointed gaze from across the way belonged to and he started a little. He offered a polite smile and nothing more. Trevelyan knew he should leave, he’s got some operation to oversee or some bear to hunt down, there was always something, but his feet moved before his mind caught up. Sidling up beside Solas, he mirrored the polite smile he was given. 

“Hey Solas.”  
“Hello my friend.”  
_Damn butterflies..._

As usual he found himself asking Solas millions of questions about his travels in the fade. If he took pleasure in the sight of Solas going on and on about his adventures just to see the light shining in those eyes, no one had to know. That was between him and the Maker. 

The elf could be a bit of an ass sometimes, but damn it if he wasn’t charming and brilliant. Trevelyan wasn’t blind, though, he knew Solas only had eyes for elvhen women, he never said he was smart however. 

The first time he’d tried a meager attempt at flirting, Solas had politely but kindly turned him down. That stung for a while, Travelyan shrugged it off and hoped that’d be enough to stop those accursed feelings from burning any longer.

It hadn’t. 

That’s the thing about traveling together, having Solas at his back firing off bolts of energy while he flanks enemies, his knives sinking into demon flesh truly makes an impression. Having Solas dryly commenting on his questionable tactics of attack as he takes a frontal assault to the face because he’d come out of stealth a second too early caused him to pout indignantly, hoping the thundering in his chest was from the fight and not from Solas caring for his well-being. If his thoughts followed him to the bedroom after the heat of battle still boiled in his blood, who could blame him for the name that slips from his lips deep under the cover of night.

Being surrounded by people who see him as a legend, a herald or who knows what is exhausting to say the least. They balked, chattered behind his back and had him making life altering decisions. It also made him feel quite lonely. Seeing Solas had become the highlight of every chaotic day, the lilt of his accented voice driving out all the stress Trevelyan carries with him, even just for a little while. 

Honestly, who put him in charge of anything? Terrible idea really. Travelyan thinks to himself as he launches himself off a cliff, healing potion at the ready. This way was faster anyway. 

Idly, he wipes off the blood from his blades, his gaze drags over to one elf persistently at the forefront of his mind and his treacherous heart lurches. A forlorn sigh leaves his lips as he sheathes his daggers to open up the map instead of pursuing this line of thought. 

Now, where was that maker-forsaken cave again?

###### 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accursed charming beautiful men...

# Warning Bells

Dorian is a delight, from their very first encounter, the way he saunters in the room to offer his services in a way that commanded attention. Trevelyan was damned from the start. They lock eyes while he demands to be there while they “negotiate” with Alexius and his mustached smirk goes straight to Travelyan’s soul. 

_Not again._ Trevelyan laments as they trek towards Redcliffe as a group. _Beautiful men have only caused me pain thus far, why must another one stroll into my life now._

They get thrown into the future and it’s horrifying, but practically in line with how everything normally goes lately. Seeing his friends with red lyrium in their glowing veins is disconcerting, it bolsters his resolve nonetheless. Travelyan and Dorian return to the present through their sacrifices, the horrors of the future echo in his mind as he condemns Alexius and offers the mages freedom with a fledgling partnership. 

Calm has returned to Haven for a bit, which means Travelyan has time to deal with the torrent of emotions brewing in his chest. Splendid...After doing preliminary checks with everyone else, Trevelyan wanders over to Dorian, who’s taken up a quaint spot near the elvhen mage. 

“Hello Dorian.”  
_Good start._  
“Hello” Dorian purrs in reply.  
_Shit._

Travelyan tries to hold a decent conversation, but everything about Dorian is distracting. They discuss the mages, Tevinter, and Alexius, Dorian rattles off answers with a flair. He even mentions that House Pavus and the Trevelyan clan are just distantly related enough that them dating wouldn’t be considered taboo. 

Trevelyan chuckles, thank the Maker. That’d be _awkward_.

A bit more comfortable now, Travelyan falls into his age old habit of casually flirty banter, to which Dorian replies in earnest, much to his surprise. 

Still nursing an unrequited flame for one elf man, however, Travelyan backs off just as quickly. He mumbles an excuse and steps away from the confoundingly attractive mage. 

He finds himself back over in Solas’ corner, as if his body doesn’t actively search out the elf automatically.

They chat amicably, Solas is talking about one of the spirits he’d encountered in the fade, but his voice wanes as Trevelyan just looks. He drinks in the view, trying to memorize the planes of his face, those pointed ears, the sparkle in his eyes and those lips. He doesn’t realize when Solas has stopped talking to glance questioningly at his compatriot.

“Is there something on my face?”  
Travelyan’s mind returns to him at startling speed. 

“Uh-no! No. Sorry, I’m just...a bit tired.”  
_Smooth, real smooth._  
He clears his throat, praying to Andraste he appears weary enough to hide his embarrassment.

Solas runs an appraising eye up and down his form, Trevelyan flushes at the candid once over.  
“I’m just going to go now. Probably going to take a nap or something. I’ll see you uh, bye!” He all but sprints back to his quarters. 

He misses Dorian watching him depart with an unreadable look on his face as he flies past him. 

Solas would never look his way, not truly. Trevelyan sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. He needed space away from Solas, yes, time would mend all wounds after all. 

For the next few traipses through the wooded forests, Travelyan had taken everyone else but Solas, in varying combinations. He imbues his frustrations into every swipe of his blade, every strike and bleeding he inflicts providing him some grim distraction. He’d taken up mundane tasks and endless requisition requests to fill up the spaces of time lest his mind wander to more unsavory areas of thought. It hadn’t slipped by unnoticed however that the Herald was running himself ragged.

A quick swing by Haven to get his bearings before he’s off again, Trevelyan checks in with his friends. Or rather he attempts to, most of them shooing him off with concerned expressions and a light scolding to actually sleep sometimes. 

It wasn’t that bad was it? 

Solas finds him perched on a deserted snowy bank on a clear dawn, legs swinging off the edge of the rocky outcropping. It’s a private area he’d found one particularly stressful night, a quiet spot for a brief respite. He wasn’t sure how Solas managed to find him here, but of course he would be the one to. Travelyan doesn’t say anything as Solas moves to sit beside him, mimicking his posture.

“You’ve been busy.”  
Travelyan feels the heat Solas is giving off, it stirs up traitorous thoughts that he angrily stamps down.  
“Being a Herald is busy work.” He replies cordially instead.  
Solas is quiet, mired in thoughts. 

“I should let you rest.” Solas had concluded his presence was unwelcome, and guilt crept into the vestiges of his heart.  
“Wait.” Travelyan grabbed his wrist, one last time.  
Solas sits back down and waits patiently.  
“I’ve been ignoring you.”  
Solas doesn’t look affronted, so that’s good.  
“I’ve noticed.” He flashes a small smile.  
A pause.  
“Because I still carry feelings for you.” Travelyan finishes. 

The wait is soul crushing, Solas smiles sadly and Trevelyan’s heart breaks once again.  
“I know, my friend.”  
Trevelyan let’s his hand drop from Solas’ wrist.  
“I am honored by your feelings, any man would fight to be the object of your affection.”  
Here it comes.  
“You are my beloved friend, and there’s no one else I’d rather have as the Herald fighting beside me.”  
Solas places a hand on Travelyan’s shoulder, “I am sorry. I hope you find someone worthy of your love.”  
He squeezes his shoulder comfortingly and leaves just as he came, like the soft breath of the wind itself. 

Of course.

Travelyan is alone. 

He flops onto his back into the snow and stares up at the mending sky, blinking back a few tears threatening to fall. 

He takes a moment to breathe, to collect himself, then he gets up from the ground, and back to work. 

Then Corypheus appears with a Dragon of all things and Trevelyan falls down an abandoned mine shaft off the side of the mountain as the avalanche thunders overhead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A once broken heart begins to mend with some help...

# Stirrings

Skyhold is pretty nice, a bit rundown, but nothing a few repairs couldn’t mend. The soldiers don’t have to struggle to find a nice place to put their bedrolls for the night anymore. That’s a good sign. 

It still hurt to talk to Solas, though it whimpered down to a dull ache at this point, enough so that Travelyan could stand talking to him again like before. He could do this. 

Dorian helps. His presence alone is grounding, the witty banter and easily flowing flirty conversation helps to keep Travelyan rooted. It also helps that he makes for a breathtaking visual against the library’s sunlight filtering through the glass. 

Sera maims a man after kicking him in the dangly bits, Dorian reconciles with his father, and they finally meet the famed Bianca. All in all, not a bad week.

Trevelyan finally feels himself healing, glibly throwing snark back at Solas as he grumbles about discrimination against mages. Dorian makes an offhand observation about the Imperium that causes Solas’ face to twist into a grimace. Trevelyan guffaws, hand clutching his abdomen, he glances at Dorian who’s grinning back in not so subtle amusement.

It feels good, _he_ feels good. 

Then, he catches Mother Giselle and Dorian having a not so friendly conversation, if the strained but polite tones were any indication.

Trevelyan has no qualms about telling the Mother just how important Dorian has been for the Inquisition. For _him_. She leaves them and Dorian airily brushes it aside as a seemingly natural occurrence. 

That doesn’t sit well with Trevelyan, after all Dorian has done, no one should deny his motives or strength of character. He bristles for a moment. Then again, Dorian doesn’t need anyone defending his honor, least of all the Inquisitor, so he lets it be. 

“..the assumption in some corners is that you and I are...intimate.” 

_That_ snaps him back into reality, “That's not the worst assumption they could have, is it?” He says before he can stop himself. There’s a split second of fear shooting down his chest before he crosses his arms defensively, perhaps that wasn't the best answer. 

“I don’t know? Is it?” Dorian’s expression is one of curiosity and even a little...hesitance? 

Trevelyan presses a little further, aiming for a playful tone, it comes out sounding more like a challenge. “Do you always answer a question with a question?” 

Dorian meets the challenge with riposte, “Would you like me to answer in some other fashion?” 

Trevelyan can’t think anymore with his heart pounding in his ears, he huffs, more out of a need to breathe than mirth. “If you’re capable.” 

Oh that did it.

Dorian smirks and steps into his space, Trevelyan swallows the lump in his throat. He faintly registers what Dorian says because _Maker_ he’s so close, Trevelyan can smell the soap off his skin. 

Dorian shoves him against the wall, one arm around his waist pulling him close while his other hand is cradled around his neck tightly. The gasp that leaves his mouth is swallowed up by Dorian’s lips. He kisses like firelight, burning and feverish, Trevelyan can’t do anything else but melt into his touch. His fingers catch on the buckles of Dorian’s vestment, he grabs hold and _pulls_. 

Dorian leans away, unfortunately, smirk playing on his lips, Trevelyan slowly releasing his grip as he returns to himself. 

“If you’re capable. Oh the things you say.” 

Trevelyan watches him leave with promises of more, he touches a knuckle to his lips, already missing Dorian’s heat.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes to a crescendo...

# Found

Fighting dragons is, quite frankly, not in his job description. It’s terrifying, seeing the beast firsthand, Bull’s excited exclamations do nothing to lessen the daunting task ahead as he’s the first to be flattened by the beast’s large taloned leg. Miraculously the high dragon falls, thank the Maker because the potions had nearly run out.

Trevelyan throws Bull one potion, which he accepts with a satisfied grunt. He passes Cole, who’s relatively unscathed to stop behind Dorian, robe ripped asunder after being singed. Twice. There’s only one potion left and he hands it to Dorian, who eyes the bleeding gash on his arm suspiciously. Trevelyan resolutely tucks his arm out of sight and shoves the potion in his face anyway. Dorian shakes his head fondly, deciding to take the potion, their fingers brush slightly. 

Trevelyan’s hand lingers a second longer before he retracts it, starting towards the closest camp to rest up. 

To say that he’s surprised to see Dorian in his chambers one fine day would be an understatement, he was properly shocked. 

“Dorian?”

Dorian walks over, in a way akin to stalking his prey, it sends pleasant shivers down Travelyan’s spine. 

The grip on the papers in his hand tightens incrementally, in anticipation or fear, he isn’t sure. 

“So. It’s all very nice, this flirting business. I am however, not a nice man.” 

Every step he takes lessons the distance between them, Trevelyan has to make a conscious effort to remind himself to breathe. 

“So here is my proposal…”

Trevelyan takes the plunge, he never stood a chance. His lips pressed against Dorian’s, his arms reach up to tangle around his neck to pull him even closer. He was doomed from the moment they’d first met whilst fighting rift demons. 

Dorian. Dorian. Dorian. 

Trevelyan repeats his name like a mantra, like a magic word to get Dorian even closer, when his mouth wasn’t otherwise preoccupied.

He backs Dorian up towards the bed, clear with his intent. Then, he’s flipped onto his back on his bed faster than he could blink.

_Well, that’s a surprise._

Dorian spreads him out against the bedsheets, his lips never leaving Trevelyan’s. His hands are fervent but practiced, soon they’re both stripped down to nothing.

“Look at you.” Dorian sits up while straddling him, leaning back to enjoy the view. “So beautiful. All for me.” Trevelyan preens a little at the praise, he’s never experienced this sort of need before. Dorian runs his hands along his body, following the grooves of his chest down to his thighs and beyond. Trevelyan can’t do anything but grab onto his wrists and hold on for dear life as he writhes underneath Dorian’s scrutiny.

Dorian bends down to pepper light kisses from his forehead down to his collarbone and marks a heated trail down Trevelyan’s chest.

“Dorian.”

He starts to say, his hands grip crescents into Dorian’s hips. The urge to grind up is slowly driving him mad, Dorian tuts and shuts him up with a nip at his ankle. 

“Hush. Tonight, I’m going to take what _I_ want, and you are to be a good boy and _obey_.” He emphasizes his last word by taking his wrists and pressing them into the sheets.

Trevelyan whines a little, but relents. 

Dorian readjusts so he’s on his knees between Trevelyan’s legs, he laves attention to his inner thighs. 

Then he finally, _finally_ takes him in hand, Trevelyan lets out a fluttered sigh at the contact. Dorian starts a slow pumping motion, just slow enough that it becomes torturous. 

His patience snaps.

With a snarl, Trevelyan lunges forward to press Dorian into the mattress, he ruts against his leg while licking an angry strip up to those accursed lips. 

He feels the chest beneath him rumble with laughter. 

“Impatient are we?” 

Trevelyan grunts, “You can punish me later. But for now, I need you Dorian.” He capitalizes his demands by sucking on his neck.

A dramatic sigh, “If you must, oh Inquisitor.” 

Trevelyan halts, “No titles in bed. Call me by my name…please” 

Dorian drops the precedence, he holds Trevelyan’s face in his hands dearly, unspoken emotions exchanged through their shared gaze. 

Then he grins, all bared teeth and unbridled provocation.

“You’ll have to try harder than that if you want me to scream your name in bed.” His eyes are sparkling in the candlelight.

Trevelyan lets go of the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, incredulous, a bark of laughter erupts from his chest. 

“Oh, you’re on!” He smothers Dorian’s smug grin in a fiery kiss, laughter fills the room.

Afterwards, when they’re sated and boneless, he folds himself around Dorian, who pressed a kiss into his shoulder. 

Dorian smells of him, of them, of _home_.

The Inquisitor smiles and drifts off to slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Batty here! Hello and welcome! 
> 
> This is my first published fanfic! 
> 
> Some backstory: this fic came out as I completed my first playthrough of Dragon Age: Inquisition, it made me curse the fact I found the franchise so late! My bud Trevelyan and I were immensely disappointed when we couldn't romance Solas though. And lo and behold, this fanfic was borne out of our frustration. I do hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Unbeta'd, so I welcome any constructive comments! 
> 
> Thanks for stopping by. :)


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